


1000-Word Short: Marjolaine

by HigheverRains



Series: HigheverRains' Short Stories [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 01:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10233020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HigheverRains/pseuds/HigheverRains
Summary: Leliana meets Marjolaine for the very first time (lore-friendly).





	

It was a glittering garden, Leliana decided, as she stepped in through the great doors and across the plush green carpets. Soft lute music filtered up, delicate and soft. Men and women milled in small groups, feathers in caps or hair, save for lady across the way who had live songbirds in a cage atop her head tangled through her hair, the height of Orlesian fashion gone wild. Leliana paused to stare. At her side, Lady Cecile, resplendent in a dusky blue to mark her twilight years, caught her arm with a frail arm. 

“Come, Petal,” she murmured, and drew her further in. On the dancefloor, women in soft gowns, a flurry of light colors – daffodil yellow, forget-me-not, orchid, and blushing pinks – whirled in the steps on the dancefloor, and all Leliana wanted was to be down there among them. She helped Lady Cecilie along towards a row of tables covered in green and gold tablecloths, and studied them with awe. They were like butterflies, the way they danced, beautiful and light on their feet, and on their faces elegant masks that spoke of a thousand secrets. 

It was her first soiree, and Lady Cecilie had brought her all the way to Val Royeaux proper for it, determined to see her out into court before she retired from public life completely. This was a chance to find her place in that garden, to determine where amidst the musicians, the singers, the dancers, she fit. As a servant left two cups of sweet, soft wine for them both atop the tablecloth, Leliana watched with quiet blue eyes, in a pale yellow gown that smelled of Andraste’s Grace as her mothers always had, and her hair caught up in an elaborate gold netting, pieces caught like errant strands in the breeze by gossamer gold spider’s web.

And none of it felt right. It was too beautiful, too perfect, and she, the girl who danced on the stone terrace overlooking the Waking Sea was hardly fit to be seen in such company. She loitered shyly at the edge of the room, a quiet little splash of buttercup amidst a flurry of brighter colors and scents, following the dance and entirely enthralled, a little lost. 

_Lost._

Until something parted the chamber, and the crier called out a name:

“The Lady Marjolaine!” Lady Cecile caught Leliana’s hand, clutching it as tight as she could in gnarled fingers, rooting her to the spot. Lady Marjolaine, Leliana noted, as heads turned and dancers froze, looked nothing like the rest.

Her hair was deep black, and she was garbed in velvet and silks of the deepest blood red. At her throat was a pendant of jet black thorns set in silver, and she was clad in intricate lace. 

“She is a widow, wealthy after the death of her husband,” Lady Cecilie said softly, her voice like wire against the soft sound of the music, drawn wafer thin like the soft furling bark of aspen trees. “She is known as a patroness of the arts, fond of musicians, my dear.”

The thought made Leliana excited, and her gaze skimmed back to where Marjolaine was making her way along the tables. A patroness of musicians. If she could only catch her eye…

But another voice in her mind decided such a thing was unlikely. Marjolaine was a deep, dark, beautiful pool in the center of the pretty spring garden of the soiree. Leliana was nothing but a soft little buttercup lingering at the edge by the wall.

But Marjolaine was headed their direction, and as she drew towards them, people parting like leaves on the breeze before her. Her gaze, a sharp cool stare, settled on Leliana and Lady Cecilie, and Leliana caught herself staring. A little smile of amusement turned the edge of Marjolaine’s lips, and she quietly corrected cause, crossing instead to join them. Leliana’s cheeks flushed deep pink in response, and she stared as Lady Cecilie swept a small little curtsy, as best she could in her dotage. Leliana herself forgot until Lady Cecilie caught her by the arm, and then she hurried to catch up, a little ungraceful in the rush.

“Lady Marjolaine,” Cecilie said softly.

“Lady Vasseur,” came the reply, and then sharp eyes settled on Leliana again. “And who then is this?” 

“Allow me to present my ward, Leliana. This is her first day out in society.” Marjolaine gave a quiet smile and then a small bow of head, reaching a hand to quietly brush through a lock of loose hair around Leliana’s face, fingernails pricking at her scalp. 

“What a beautiful creature,” she said softly. “Are you enjoying the soiree?” Leliana’s breath caught, and her lips parted.

“Yes,” she said, breathless, after a moment, lips tracing her lower lip. “Though, it is a little overwhelming. I am not sure how to fit in. It is very pretty though, like a garden of flowers.” Marjolaine gave a quiet smile and then leaned in close to murmur at her ear.

“It helps to remember no one here is what they seem.” The idea was a new one, and it made Leliana draw back, confusion and wariness in her eyes. Marjolaine gave a soft little smile. “Everyone is playing a role. A garden is made of flowers, but it is also the home of spiders.” 

For a moment it settled over her, and then she turned her gaze back to the masks, to the lies worn blatant for all to see, the hidden world of a garden laced with webs, and she drew a slow breath, considering. Marjolaine gave her another slight smile. 

“The choice is yours, little one. You can choose to be a flower, here at the edge of the garden, or you can choose to be the spider. I can show you how.” The offer left Leliana speechless. She stared, and Marjolaine drew back then, giving a soft farewell instead to Lady Cecilie. 

And then she was gone, winding her way further along to speak to others, gazes following after her.

“A garden, hm?” Cecilie said, grounding Leliana again. Leliana blushed a soft pink and then had a sip of the sweet wine, turning her gaze away, a little embarrassed and overwhelmed. “I think the spider likes you, Petal.” Leliana drew a breath, and then slowly set down her glass, eyes skimming back to Marjolaine. 

“She is no spider,” she said softly, pricked by her nails as she touched the lock of hair. “She is a rose.” Blood red and vibrant, the center of the garden by might and grace. “And she is beautiful.”

“Shall I extend an invitation then?” Lady Cecilie said softly, nudging her along towards the next table to meet a few new people. Leliana’s age skimmed towards the blood-red darkness of Lady Marjolaine’s gown.

“Yes,” she said softly. _I am not lost. I choose the spider. I choose the rose._


End file.
